


escapades

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: “Would you believe me if I said it was to save your life?” Aphra asked. She pitched her voice a little higher, a little perkier, in the hopes that Tolvan would believe her sincere.





	escapades

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weakinteraction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/gifts).



The problem with Aphra was she never really wanted to do half the things she did. The trouble she got into, the dubious adventures, all of it just sort of happened. Outside of her control. Without her input. In a lot of ways, she was just along for the ride. At least, that was what she told herself. But sometimes, sometimes even she couldn’t talk her way around the poodoo she pulled. Like now. Sitting across from Tolvan—and, for the time being, she refused to think of her as cute Imperial. For one thing, she was no longer an Imperial. And for another, she didn’t know that she deserved to consider the fact that Tolvan looked very, very good when she was angry.

Aphra might have felt a little guilty. Maybe. Just a bit.

“Stop staring at me,” Tolvan said, voice clipped, her accent broadening with righteous indignation. She remained maglocked to the chair Aphra had deposited her in earlier. There wouldn’t be any escape for her until Aphra decided it.

Any other time, with any other person, she might have been pleased to get the better of an enemy, but with Tolvan, who turned disappointment into an art form and had grown far more dashingly melancholic than Aphra remembered, it was merely a job that had to be done, an inconvenience, a hated errand. Her eyes were shadowed, Tolvan’s were, and Aphra could hardly read anything in them. It shouldn’t have been this hard. Tie her up, make a threat or two, get some information that wouldn’t cost her too dearly should the Empire come knocking.

“Your hair’s a little longer,” she answered, instead of telling her the truth which was simply that she liked looking at Tolvan.

Tolvan bit her lip, cheeks flushing, and turned her head to look away. Her profile struck a chord somewhere in Aphra’s chest, the same one that got plucked out when trouble brewed and she was forced to improvise. Her cybernetics glinted under the light, drawing Aphra’s attention in ways that Aphra didn’t appreciate when there was work to be done. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch, drag down the metal that encased Tolvan’s neck and jaw. Whatever they did for Tolvan was probably deeply personal—and easily accessed through the hacking of her Imperial files—so Aphra chose to pretend they weren’t a tantalizing distraction from the task at hand.

Even if it ultimately was in Tolvan’s best interest, Aphra had the sneaking suspicion that she wouldn’t be grateful. Still, Aphra couldn’t find it in herself to regret her actions. Aphra wasn’t a good person, but a small, unconscious part of her wanted to be.

“Why am I here?” Tolvan asked, utterly annihilating Aphra’s hopes that they would be able to have a nice conversation without Aphra having to come up with a plausible reason for either of them to be here. Imperials, they always were a little more finicky than everyone else, fastidious. Most of them anyway. She supposed at least a few had some interesting quirks.

But Tolvan wasn’t one of them. Tolvan was a good soldier with a shit ton of bad luck in her past and, with Aphra here, her present, too. And she knew it.

“Would you believe me if I said it was to save your life?” Aphra asked. She pitched her voice a little higher, a little perkier, in the hopes that Tolvan would believe her sincere.

Her eyebrow inched, incredulous, up her forehead.

So much for sincerity.

Aphra hadn’t expected that to work anyway.

“How about I just wanted to see those pretty gray eyes of yours again?”

Aphra was beginning to hate Tolvan’s eyebrows. “I find that slightly more plausible,” she admitted through gritted, grinding teeth. Well, now. That was something. It was closer to the truth than Aphra expected her to buy. Huh. It was actually kind of nice. So this was what it was like to be believed by Tolvan. Enough of it that Tolvan relaxed a little and huffed, arms twitching out of long habit. She so very obviously wanted to cross her arms.

Aphra had half a mind to let her. She still wouldn’t be able to get anywhere. It wouldn’t have hurt anything to let her have this.

If only it wouldn’t have drawn more of her suspicion. Another things a lot of Imperials didn’t understand: sympathy or charity. Aphra wasn’t too good at either of those things herself, but she was at least better than Tolvan.

“Are you just going to—waste my time here?” Tolvan asked after an awkward pause. “What good did kidnapping me do? What do you want?”

“A few hours of your time.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Tolvan’s mouth twisted into an unpleasant frown. “You’re the only person in the galaxy for whom that’s true. I demand an answer.”

“You’ve got two already.” Aphra blew her bangs out of her face and stood, pacing around the small room she’d procured for this. No one else knew she was here—and, by extension, Tolvan—not even Trip, who made it a terrifying habit these days to always know where she was. “What more could you possibly want?”

“The truth.”

Since when did Imperials care about the truth, Aphra wondered, beyond their own rigid constructions of it. Then again, Tolvan didn’t believe her, so perhaps nothing really had changed. An Imperial was always an Imperial. Sighing, she passed her hand over her eyes and bowed her head. This was thoroughly disappointing. “All right,” she said, grieved. Nobody ever expected the best of her. It was rather annoying. And a bit hurtful. “You got me.”

Tolvan tipped her chin up in self-congratulatory smugness. It wasn’t a good look—except for how it totally was. There was a compelling curl at the corner of her mouth that Aphra wanted to kiss away. “Just as I suspected,” Tolvan said. She definitely, definitely relaxed. Adding, imperious, “What is it?”

Aphra tried not to be offended.

“What do you think?” Her tone might have been snide, but Tolvan absolutely deserved it. “Information.”

Now it was Tolvan’s turn to look disappointed, which was what she got for being so incredulous. “In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t know anything worthwhile anymore. You ensured that.”

 _Yeah, I know_ , she thought, disgusted at this development. Really, did Aphra seem that incompetent or something? Of course Tolvan had nothing Aphra needed to know. “I can safely say you weren’t going anywhere good after what happened on Eadu anyway,” she said, snappish. “In a way, I did you a favor.”

“You’ve done no one a single favor in your life or theirs. Everything you do comes with strings and stabbed backs. I know the type.”

You don’t, Aphra wanted to say, to rail against this estimation of her character. Tolvan’s conclusion about her was unfair to say the least and totally out-of-date if nothing else. She was better these days, damn it. They wouldn’t be here now if she hadn’t developed something like a conscience. Tolvan could at least acknowledge that much. “You seem to know a lot for someone who claims to know nothing. Maybe you can tell me about—” Thoughts whirled, quick and blurry, through her mind. Kriff, she had no idea. Of all the times for ingenuity to fail her. “—I don’t know. What _can_ you tell me about?”

Tolvan snorted at that and spit on the ground very near to Aphra’s boots. That was a bit of a surprise. Most Imperials weren’t quite so coarse and Tolvan certainly hadn’t been before. Was this truly Tolvan? Or was she just trying to get a rise out of Aphra? And did it matter one way or the other? “Freedom suits you, huh, Tolvan?” she asked, stepping away from the small puddle of saliva. “Or did they teach you that at the Academy?”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. The Academy taught me nothing about it.”

Aphra sneered. “You know what?” she said, giving up any hope of having a pleasant conversation with the woman. Do an Imp a favor and they just took it as their due. It didn’t seem it would be all that different for Tolvan even now that she was out from under that particularly large and punishing thumb. “Why don’t you just sit tight here? I’ll come get you in a few hours.”

That, at least, got Tolvan moving. Or trying to. She struggled against her bonds, futile, and huffed. “What’s your game now, Aphra?”

Aphra didn’t do hurt, but if she did, she might have felt that at this particular moment. Done pacing, she strode toward the door. “No game, Tolvan.” She turned back once and looked at Tolvan. “Just keeping you out of the way of an Imperial Remnant patrol of the area.”

She hadn’t intended to stun Tolvan, not really, but she couldn’t deny the momentary flush of victory as Tolvan’s jaw dropped. “There’s no such thing. I would know.”

The shrug Aphra gave wasn’t in the top-ten most obnoxious ones she’d ever given, but it was probably close. “I could throw you back out if you want to take your chances.”

Silence fell in the room as Tolvan stilled. Her dark brows knit together. Instead of making her look confused, it merely made her seem vulnerable and a little sad. Which definitely wasn’t what Aphra wanted, no. She’d always been a bit of a sucker when other people’s feelings were on the line. It didn’t usually get her anywhere, being a sucker—Sana could attest to that—but she still felt it. Deeply. It wasn’t fair that she got to make Aphra feel guilty. Not least of all because Aphra hadn’t actually done anything wrong, at least outside of the eyes of the law, which found all sorts of useful, moral behavior illegal.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Tolvan asked.

“I believe I did,” Aphra said, severe and dignified. Sure, half of that was affectation, but some of it she meant anyway. “What part of ‘I’m trying to save your life’ is so unclear?”

“All of it,” she replied. “We are talking about you here.”

“Yeah, well.” She sniffed and turned away, drumming her fingers against the inside of the door in a thoughtful rhythm. “See if I ever try to help you again.” It wasn’t the best comeback she’d ever made, but it wasn’t the worst either. That was… something at least. She frowned and waited, hoping Tolvan would say something to her. Thank you, maybe. Or at least, I’m sorry.

She said neither. And yet, when Aphra went to palm open the door, she said, “Wait.” She spoke with reserve and as though she was barely holding back a huff of annoyance. “Come back.”

That was, in Aphra’s book, almost as good as a thank you or an apology. That was a way in and one she hadn’t anticipated Tolvan actually giving her. Keeping her safe from what remained of the Empire was the goal, but if she could only get Tolvan to talk to her, too. That would be a gift, something to treasure. Trip might have called her a dangerously sentimental fool, but Aphra didn’t much care about Trip’s opinion on this—and most—things. These days, they diverged both in method and opinion. Sometimes, that led to conflict, but Aphra knew how to handle conflict. Mostly. When it mattered.

Rather, when it didn’t matter.

There were, after all, more than a few fights in her past that she’d walked away when she should have stayed. Aphra was a runner by nature, but she stood her ground when it was necessary.

Except for—

Well, best not to think about her. Down that corridor laid nothing good. Better to focus on the present.

Tolvan’s cybernetics clicked as she swallowed. “You’re serious?” Her eyes were a little wider than before, giving her a fragile appearance that Aphra didn’t find even the least bit appealing. Then, she became herself again, brusque and statue-like, carved out of marble and unhappiness. “What do you want for this… act of charity?” Wary, she tipped her head up to better watch Aphra’s movements.

Huffing out an exasperated breath, Aphra planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t—it wasn’t…” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “Look, you clearly don’t want me here. I’m starting to wish you weren’t here. I’m just going to leave you here. Like I said, a few hours and you’re free to go.”

“Why not uncuff me now?”

“Will you leave?” 

“I’d rather not get picked up by Imperials, no.” She grimaced, her lip twitching with rueful distaste probably. “And I don’t like cuffs. So if you’re willing to let me go… I’ll stick around until the danger is gone.”

Aphra wanted to be suspicious, but when she looked at Tolvan, she couldn’t bring herself to be. Where else would she go? And now, if she did trust Aphra’s word about the Imperials scouring the sector, she wouldn’t want to leave. And if she did escape…

Was that really any of Aphra’s concern?

Aphra swallowed. She’d done a lot of stupid things in her time and this was somewhere near the top in terms of just about every metric against which she scored such things. This didn’t benefit her at all. It put her in a decent amount of danger should Tolvan decide to strangle her and actually managed to get the upper hand. And, if she didn’t do that, she could try to disable Aphra’s ship and leave Aphra stranded in the middle of nowhere with Imps sniffing around. So many things could go wrong here. “I should have let you find out about the Imp patrols for yourself,” she said, conversational. “Would’ve been easier on me.”

“Yes,” Tolvan answered, unable to deny this small truth even if Aphra might have wanted her to. Her gaze settled like a heavy blanket over Aphra, her regard smothering. “But you’ve always been foolish, haven’t you?”

“At least since I was born.” She practically chirped the admission. She really had spent a good deal of her life doing all sorts of ridiculous things. Some of them—a lot of them—ended poorly. And it looked like this one would, too. Pressing a button on the backside of the chair, the locks released. Aphra expected a lot of things in that moment, a fight, a slap, a stern word or two.

Instead, Tolvan took Aphra’s face in her hands and kissed her. And not just a short kiss, no. It was the kind that felt like it lasted for days, that a person could get caught up in forever if they weren’t careful. Aphra could get swept up in a kiss like this, think all sorts of foolish things about what it meant and how Tolvan felt about her. Aphra could answer that for her: she felt the same way about Aphra that most people did. Nothing at best, loathing at the most reasonable.

Why she decided to express that indifference to loathing with a kiss, Aphra couldn’t entirely figure out.

But to be fair to her, a kiss from a good-looking woman always left her a little light on coherent thought.

By the time Tolvan let her go—and just where did she learn to do that anyway, Aphra didn’t think they taught that kind of thing in the Academy—Aphra was stunned, nearly swaying with need. Sighing deeply, she looked up at Tolvan, only to see her staring back, equally quizzical. Her mouth opened in a small ‘o’ and her cheeks grew pink as Aphra watched.

“I… didn’t mean to do that,” Tolvan said.

Aphra frowned, unsure whether she should be upset or not. Part of her wanted to be, but another part of her saw something beneath the words, something intangible, but real all the same. Working off of hunches was a skill Aphra had honed for long years. It didn’t always work out, but sometimes…

Sometimes, she got a feeling.

And everything in her said she was right.

“Does it matter,” Aphra asked, “if you liked it?”

It felt like a decade before Tolvan answered. She bit her lip, thoughtful, and glanced everywhere except for where Aphra stood. Aphra almost gave up, intending to leave, when Tolvan smiled. “Thank you,” she said, and that was all. Her face grew even redder. Her feet scuffed at the floor. Though she bowed her head, silver bangs falling into her eyes, Aphra’d caught sight of a sparkle that wasn’t there before.

It wasn’t a confirmation, not in so many words, but Aphra knew how to read between the lines. “Anytime, Tolvan,” she replied, cheerful. Perhaps she had made the right call here. A kiss and acknowledgment, what more could she want? “I mean it: any time.” She grinned for good measure.

At that, Tolvan only flushed deeper. “Maybe another time,” she said, distracted, her voice a little lower pitched than before. Then, she muttered something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, _damn you, Aphra_ , before leaning in to kiss her again.

This time, Aphra was ready; she gave as good as she got.

And this time, when Tolvan let her go, she said, “Remind me to save you more often.”

Tolvan huffed, brushing her hair out of her face, and ducked her head to hide a smile. “I wouldn’t say you have to go that far.” She looked up at Aphra from under the thick fan of her eyelashes. “You’ve already done more than enough to get my attention.”

Aphra lifted her chin. Tolvan’s words were more than she expected to get out of her and it was more than enough just to have this moment here, now, and the promise that stood between them.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said.

And, not surprisingly, she did.


End file.
